Confessions
by oreo-and-proud
Summary: Ron is there when Harry is suffering. But sometimes, things can go away when we need them the most. M for suicide and cutting. Dark themes. NOT SLASH.


**A/N: Just something to get the juices flowing. This is a very dark fic. Harry and Ron are just brothers. NOT SLASH! Some things in this fic might seem like slash but it's not, I may be being a bit overcautious though. SUICIDE WARNING. Don't say I didn't warn you.**

**HPOV**

I am Harry Potter, and I have no life.

All of my actions are controlled by _them_. Dumbledore.

I have to stay home with people that abuse me. Because of him. I am threatened to be beat up and kicked out because I save my cousin's life. Or soul, whatever. I don't reply to my friends owls anymore. They just use me. I know they don't care.

I first came to Hogwarts, skinny, pale, weak. No one cared. They stuffed food in my mouth and didn't care that it made my stomach ache so much I threw it up. I couldn't help it. No one checked though, so I guessed it was okay. When I first returned to Privet Drive after first year, I have already gotten used to regular meals. Large, regular meals. I start to be in pain, hunger pains. Cold, half cans of soup that I have to share with my owl didn't really do much for my hunger. _They_ didn't seem to care though. But back then, I was too young. I thought it was what happened to me. I deserved it. The process continued but it got better.

Ron and Hermione help. They don't suspect anything though. It's how I want it.

Cedric dies. People blame me. I am attacked. They say I'm crazy. Blah, blah, blah.

I was almost kicked out: for saving my cousins' life.

It's too much. I have a realization. It's not like anyone loves me. No one's said it. I am fifteen and I have never heard an "I love you" directed at me. Paternal or otherwise. I guess I deserve it. I've never been told otherwise so it must be right, right?

Being told you're a worthless sack of nothing that deserves to be in St. Mungos tends to do that to you.

Finally, after weeks of misery and being ignored, _he _comes to pick me up. I play happy child, or as happy as a child can be after finding out that the only link to his father has died.

Again I'm only being saved from my hell to be used. A pawn. I get Slughorn and then I'm thrown into a bin to wait out when I have to show my face again.

I am back to being "the boy-who-lived", the title. My title. Time and time again I tell them, "I didn't do anything that night! I was one year old! It was all my mother, yet you people don't even know her name!" I give up though. They won't listen. Whatever makes them happy, they will believe.

I don't really laugh anymore. Ron sees something, but no one listens to him when he voices it. Soon he gives up. Now all he does is sit with me while I wallow, sometimes attempting to tell a joke for me to crack a smile. Hermione doesn't get it. She's not that much of a psychologist. She is a really smart and lovely girl but if something bad is happening, she will do whatever she can to deny it. She was one of the ones to think Ron was crazy. He doesn't care though.

I've started cutting myself. The first time was an accident I swear! I was helping out Mrs. Weasley by cutting sprouts with Ron. The knife slips and I see a long slice on my finger. I think that's when Ron started getting suspicious. At first I was surprised. It hurt, but it also felt good. It's easy to focus on physical pain. I stare at it. Ron notices and points out that I'm bleeding. He says it like a question.

Later Ron talks to me about it. He asks why I didn't do anything at first. He says that I had a thoughtful look in my eye. Like I was contemplating something. I tell him it surprised me and that it was nothing. I knew he didn't believe me but he let it go. After that I couldn't escape him.

I wait until he falls asleep to take skin to knife again. It felt good. Ron's snores were a bit too loud. I wish I listened. After a particularly deep and satisfying cut, he says something.

"What are you doing?"

I tell him it's nothing and to go back to sleep.

Now I'm on suicide watch, thanks to Ron. He cares. It makes me happy that someone does. I can't help thinking that I am only on watch because they need me to kill Voldemort though. Damn prophecy.

Professor Lupin said my dad never needed suicide watch. He doesn't say this to me, but I overhear him anyway. Something inside me snaps and I yell at him, coming out of my hiding place in the kitchen.

"My father is dead! He never _will_ need suicide watch! Sorry if I can't live up to your damned expectations!" I freeze and feel everyone's eyes on me. Remus, Mrs. and Mr. Weasley, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron. I go to my room and I hear Ron telling everyone that he'll check on me. I'm thankful for him. I couldn't look at Lupin right now. Ron comes into my room but says nothing. We both just sit together.

After a few minutes of silence, I finally speak.

"Why do you care?" He looks as if I've pulled him out of another world.

"You're my best friend." He says, plain and simple.

"What about Hermione?" I thought I had him. I guess I was wrong.

He shrugs. "You're my favorite." I guess I can relate.

"Same." I tell him.

I love them both, Hermione and Ron. To me, they are my family. But Ron's my favorite. Some comfort comes when I hear that I'm his favorite as well. He's my best friend. My brother. I lie and tell him I'm hungry and we walk down to eat. Silence greets us as we enter the kitchen.

The twins are at their shop. It's too bad. I could use a laugh.

Dinner is awkward. Hermione tries to start a conversation, but it dies out quickly. The food is good. I've gotten used to the constant changes in my diet. I eat a lot and then have no choice but to puke it back up again, at least for the first few big meals. I go upstairs and I hear someone following me. I hope they leave before the pain sets in, and that happens rather quickly.

"Where are you going?" I hear Ron ask from the kitchen when I reach the top stair. I hear Lupin's voice not too far behind me.

"I need to talk to him." I don't want to talk to _him_ per say but I don't say anything. I continue walking up stairs. I sit on my bed and he follows and takes a seat next to me. "What's wrong with you, Harry? I didn't mean to compare you to James. It's just, you look so much like him-"I cut him off. I'm sick of hearing this.

"Yes, yes I know. I look like him but I have my mother's eyes. I get it. I see a bit of my father and my mother in the mirror. Is that what you're saying? That they're always with me? Because I already knew that."

He looked at me like I have wounded him but continued on. "Why do you only let Ron near? You've never blown up at him. Not even when he told Dumbledore you were suicidal." He visibly flinched while saying these words, his olden features contorting, but I didn't give notice.

"Ron knows me for me, not for something I'm not. And by that I mean my father. He's never met him and neither have I." That last line was a bit poetic but it got my point across. I guess Lupin got the message because he left.

For a few minutes, I was alone. The pain shows up and I go to the toilet to vomit out my dinner. After my visit to the bathroom, I rinse out my mouth and sit on my bed.

Someone cared. Ron cared. I had my suspicions though. What if he was just like everyone else. Only needing to keep me alive because I needed to kill Voldemort. Again, I come back to the fact that no one cares. I'm a pawn. It hurts to know this. My only existence is to risk _my_ life to save others. Then what? I really only have two options: either kill and most likely die as well or be killed. Point blank. Why not just end it now? End the pain. The cause of everybody's disappointment. I couldn't do it though. Not now anyway. I'll settle for cutting. So close and yet so far. At least it makes the pain go away, if only for a moment.

I have a knife. I keep it under my mattress. I can't risk Mrs. Weasley finding it. She'll take it away, and I'd be left to my thoughts again.

Blade meets skin, and numbing, pain prickles up my arm. The blood travels down to my hand in thick, crimson trails and I'm extra cautious to make sure it doesn't drip on the comforter. I take an old sock and dab at the new wound. With each touch a new jab of pain makes itself known. It feels good. A small, blissful smile forms on my face as I close my eyes to soak up the pain. I can escape. In my new circle of pain, I can escape the expectant stares, the knowledge that I am letting down everyone because of my inability to handle my life. I faintly hear someone running up stairs.

Feeling paranoid, I quickly and clumsily wrap my arm with the already soaked, red cloth and tie it in a tight knot. The door to my room bursts open and Mrs. Weasley, Hermione and Ginny are standing at the door. Hastily, I make to hide my bloody arm under the bed covers but the bed was already made. They all saw it anyway.

They are all standing in the doorway. Shock written all over their faces. Quickly, I stand up. Hiding my bloody arm, I walk hastily past them and down the stairs. They still don't move. I walk into the kitchen just in time to see Remus and Tonks walking out the door. No one is down here now. No one except Ron, who is sitting in the living room, staring off into space.

I sit next to him. He looks at me and I back at him. Slowly and hesitantly, he pulls up his sleeve.

I gasp. Scars run diagonally up and down the length of his arm.

"I know how you feel, mate." He says. Then he pulls his sleeve down and looks away shrugging. "That's why you're my favorite. You seem to care. And now, you seem to get it." He sighed. "Having six other siblings is tough. I don't get anything new. I'm the least liked out of my family. My mother actually said she would take you as a son anytime. And here I am thinking that she didn't want any more sons after she had Charlie.

"Have you noticed the age difference between him and Percy? Seven years. Then two years between him and the twins. Two years between them and I. But then, a year between me and Ginny." He pauses, thinking. "I have a theory about that. I know its right because when I asked my mom she started crying. By the time I was born, they were desperate. You know our age difference is a year and 163 days. That means that they waited about six months after I was born to try again.

"I've never told anyone this but," he hesitated looking anxious, "I heard them talking about me a few years ago." Then he did a rather good impression of Mrs. Weasley's voice when she is mad. "'We can't tell him Arthur, it would hurt his feelings!' They were talking about me. The thing they couldn't tell me was that when they first found out I was a boy, they were seriously considering having me aborted." He paused at this. His voice had taken on a distant quality. He opened his mouth to say something else but his mom, his sister and his other best friend were storming downstairs, all in tears.

"Harry, oh Harry!" They sobbed. I glanced at Ron and saw that his face was blank. He was completely shunted to the side as Hermione, Mrs. Weasley and Ginny enveloped me in a hug. Maybe they didn't really process the fact that I was suicidal when they found out but now that they saw it….

This wasn't fair. I was not the one who deserved this. I had only had these thoughts starting a few days ago. But Ron, his scars looked to be years old. Too mad to think of being polite I wrestled out of there hugs.

"Ron." I looked at him and nodded. He got the message and with another sigh, followed me upstairs leaving the rest behind in stunned silence once again.

I sat on my bed and he sat on his across from me. "Ron, how long have you been doing this?" I looked at him. My tone was not disapproving, nor scared, it was just questioning.

He shrugged. "About two years. Give or take a few months. Hermione told me about an old relative she had that committed suicide. She said that he has been cutting himself. When I asked what she meant, she told me. The first time I tried it out, I was surprised at how… just how right it felt." He looked at me pleadingly as if begging me to understand. I did.

"Why were you being such a hypocrite though?" He looked at me questioningly. "You have been cutting yourself for two years. Yet when you see me cutting, you run and tell Dumbledore."

"Well mate," he started in a voice that said this should be common knowledge. "If you haven't noticed, I'm not the most noticed or cared for person in the world. It's a shame really that the proudest my mom was of me was when I was made prefect. I've never seen her so happy for something I did. It was a real surprise that I actually got a new broom. I thought that when I discovered my wizard powers she would be ecstatic but she just said that it was to be expected." He shrugged. "I'm not really needed in this world like you. I had a dream once that I wasn't born. Nothing changed.

"I'm just, me. Ron Weasley. I don't _need_ to be here. No one_ wants _me to. I actually think I'm a burden. My mom said it herself. Time and time again she has told me that I eat too much. I once heard her saying that I was eating her out of house and home. I would appreciate it if you don't tell anyone about this. I don't need to be another burden to her." He paused and, shaking his mane of red hair out of his eyes, quietly asked, "Why do you do it?"

"Because, I'm sick of it. My life. Remember when you thought I entered the Triwizard Tournament on my own accord? Well that was one of the things I'm sick of. I didn't ask for this. To be the boy-who-lived. To have this damned scar. To have my parents killed. To be used as a pawn by Dumbledore. My only purpose is to kill You-Know-Who. And then what? I'll be a burden on everyone. A depressed excuse for a human being that can't even pretend everything is okay."

"I know how you feel. Or at least," he laughed a humorless laugh and his azure eyes landed on me, "I can sympathize. The only difference is that I can. I know how to pretend. I'll teach you if you want. I've been fooling you haven't I? I don't think anyone would care enough to do anything about me to notice a change so I'll show you how you act for a few days and then I'll teach you how to pretend to be happy. I promise."

I was grateful for Ron. Maybe if I could act like nothing was wrong, everyone would leave me alone. "Okay." I said with a relieved smile.

"Wow, don't I feel useful." He said this so quietly that I don't think I was supposed to hear. But I did anyway.

Ron got to get away with this because he felt that no one needed him.

I did. I needed a brother. A friend. One who understands and doesn't frown upon or spaz out about it.

"Well mate, I need you." I didn't mean to sound sentimental but it was the truth. "We're just going to have to stick together." He looked up from where he was staring at his hands and nodded. It was silent for a few minutes until we heard Mrs. Weasley's voice from downstairs.

"Harry, please come down. We need to talk to you." She sounded choked up. All I could think about was that Ron wasn't getting the same treatment. It felt wrong. I could now see from his point-of-view and I didn't like what I was saw. I looked at Ron and he was staring at his hands again, flaming hair shielding his eyes from view. He nodded and took a deep breath.

"Go."

I left the room. I didn't know if I should leave him at the moment but he told me to, so I did.

When I land on the bottom step I look up from my old, worn out shoes. I meet the eyes of the last person I would like to see. Dumbledore. "Professor Dumbledore, sir… hi." I say awkwardly in a dead pan voice. There is no twinkle in his eye, and he is ashen faced. I've never seen him like this.

"Harry, I hear you are still cutting yourself. Would you like to talk?" Not really. But I decided that if I play along he will go away faster.

"Of course sir." Mrs. Weasley and Hermione, who were watching us both, left up stairs and I was left with Dumbledore.

"Why Harry? You know you've got a job to do. Lord Voldemort needs to be defeated. I don't understand." I was suddenly extremely angry with Dumbledore. Of course he doesn't understand. He was just using me. I needed to defeat Voldemort and then what? Go back to Privet Drive because I couldn't possibly live with the Weasley's? He was reminding me of the Dursley's. It's like he doesn't want me to be happy. I never did get a good reason why I wasn't allowed to live with my only _real _family.

"I know what I need to do sir. Trust me, if I have anything to do with it, I won't be dying before Lord Voldemort is defeated." For now, I added to myself.

"Okay Harry. Just remember, we need you." Yeah, yeah. I've heard it all. You need me to save all the innocents and then disappear because I would just be a worthless mass of depression after Lord Voldemort is dead. Then I can cut whatever I want. I wanted to tell him all this but I refrained. I just wanted to be alone.

I took his last words as a dismissal and walked up the stairs. I didn't stomp, or huff, or slam any doors. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction to know that he had made me mad. I just stiffly walked into my room and sat back on my bed.

Ron wasn't there. I dug around for my knife in my mattress but it wasn't there either. I panicked. If I couldn't cut, how was I supposed to escape? I needed the comforting bubble the pain gave me. Fearing I left it out, I walked around looking for Mrs. Weasley. She might have found it. I hope she didn't.

As I passed Ginny's room I heard Hermione talking. I heard my name so naturally I stopped.

"I can't believe Harry cuts himself. Ron, why do you think he does it?" Oh, so there was Ron. I desperately hope he doesn't tell. I needed someone to trust.

"I don't know." He replied. "Maybe we should just leave him alone." His voice was strangely forced. "I'm going to just go to bed." I heard springs move as he got up and his footsteps headed towards the door. He came out and saw me right away. "Hey." He said with a glance and a small smile my way. I followed him to our shared room.

"What were they saying?" I asked even though I already had a clue.

"Just what you would expect from them. 'Doesn't he understand that we need You-Know-Who defeated' and 'we should keep him carefully watched'."

Just as I was about to ask if he had any idea where my knife was he threw it on my bed. It was clean and spot free.

"Saved it. You need to be more careful if you wanna hide. I found it incredibly bloody. I got it just in time too. Mum was in here and did a sweep of your side of the room. She even checked under the mattress. I watched. She never looks at my bed unless it's laundry day so I hide mine under the pillow." He pulled out a short blade. It was clean and well hidden. "So what now?" he asked as the blade was once again hidden from the world.

"Teach me to pretend. You promised that you would show me what I am like first."

"Okay then. But tomorrow. I'm dog tired." And with that we both changed into our night clothes and drifted off to sleep.

I did not dream that night.

When I woke up, it was with incredible difficulty. I missed the blank nothingness that unconsciousness brought me. But if I was to pretend, I would have to actually do something.

Per usual, Ron was still asleep and snoring like an elephant. "Ron, c'mon, wake up." I shook him and noticed that there was a fresh wound on his arm. He must be really good at this. I didn't notice anything last night. After a few hard shakes, he stirred and his snores ceased.

"s'nothing, mmfine, wait, what?" He said groggily. Then he sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Oh, s'only you. Well come on." He said as he wiped the last of the sleep from his eyes, "My teaching begins." He said the last bit with a voice that sounded very much like Trelawny. I noticed that he was a good actor. If I were anyone else, I would have thought nothing was wrong. We slowly walked downstairs. Faces blank. I noticed Ron matched his pace with mine.

"Good morning boys. Harry." Came Mrs. Weasley's greeting.

"Hey."

"Hey." Again, I have to admit, Ron was a good actor. Or maybe he wasn't really acting and just dropping the charade. I figured the later was more accurate.

"How are you Harry? Did you sleep well? And you Ron."

"I slept alright Mrs. Weasley." I stood looking at my sock covered feet with Ron mimicking my movements.

"Okay." was Ron's reply. When we sat to eat breakfast Mrs. Weasley set a rather large plate of food in front of me. I got twice as much as Ron. It was almost as if she thought that eating would solve everything. A bit counterproductive if you ask me.

"Mrs. Weasley, I couldn't possibly eat all this!" I said with an incredulous look at the massive pile of food in front of me. This was more then what I was used to at Hogwarts. If all of this food was forced down my throat, I would get the stomach ache of a lifetime. It was too bad that the older I was the hungrier I got. I had a huge growth spurt during the summer so far and I have adjusted rather well to little to no food.

"Harry, dear, you need to eat." And with that she took the fork and stuffed a large piece of toast in my mouth. Knowing I was not going to get out of this, and not wanting to be even more of a disappointment, I quickly and forcefully jammed every bit of food down my throat. By the time I was done, I felt as if I was going to explode. My stomach was in so much pain it was hard to concentrate as I hastily got up from the table.

"Harry, are you okay. Do you want anything else? It's no problem." I didn't answer as I ran up the stairs and to the bathroom. I really hoped that no one was following me. I didn't want to deal with anymore awkward questions.

With an uncomfortable lurch in my stomach, I emptied the excessive breakfast into the toilet. "Oh Harry!" Fuck. Well this was going to be good. "You threw up!" well no shit Sherlock. I was always a tad touchy after throwing up. But again, no one noticed any difference before. I turned around; Hermione was standing in the doorway eyes wide and scared. "Are you okay? Should I call Mrs. Weasley? MRS. WEASLEY, HARRY NEEDS HELP!" I could tell she was hysterical as she screamed for Mrs. Weasley and it didn't help my already sour mood.

The sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs met my ears. Just what I needed. "Harry dear! Are you alright? Are you bleeding?" I honestly didn't know what to say. Was I alright? I was saved from answering by Ron's voice.

"Mum, I bet it was just you stuffing all that food down his gullet that made him puke." Then with a sigh he left. He didn't go to our room though. Mrs. Weasley watched him go and turned back to me.

"Well if that's the case, why didn't you say anything? I guess I won't feed you so much now, will I? At least not while you have this stomach bug." She can be completely oblivious sometimes. "C'mon, I'll take you to lay down honey." As we walked to my room I heard the sound of retching in the distance. "Now what could that be? Oh well." We reached my bed and she didn't leave until I was lying down. All this extra caution. Just to make sure I stayed alive long enough to save her ass. I shouldn't think badly of her though, she just thought she was helping. She left.

I throw up, and suddenly everyone is yelling and screaming in panic. Ron throws up and all he gets is an 'oh well'. No one cares. Not just about me, but about Ron too. It hurts even more to know that he's going through the same thing. It makes me guilty, but I'm glad. I don't have to go through it alone. Again I take out my knife. Maybe I should name it. I'll ask Ron if it would be crazy or not.

After a swift cut (not too deep, I gave my word) and a blissfully mind numbing wave of pain, I carefully wipe off the blade and hide it back under my mattress. Then I am left to my thoughts. Why me? Why do I have to be the boy-who-lived? I was this close to being the boy-who-died. I guess now I'm the boy-who-cuts. I laugh at this crude humor just as Ron walks in.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Hey I was wondering, do you name your blade?" he flushed a little around the ears so I took that as a yes. "What do you name it?"

"Rose. It's a bit ironic really. Why? Do you name yours?"

"I was going to. I think I'll name it Mary. You know, like Bloody Mary. It's a muggle thing." I say at his questioning look. "Did your mom say anything about you throwing up? Or did she not notice."

"She didn't notice. I walked by her and she said that I was looking a little pale. I told her I was fine and she let it go. C'mon lets go downstairs. It's not like you actually are sick. I heard Fred and George are gonna pop in for a bit. Their shop is really busy. They said that they were lucky to have the time to come for even a minute." Just as he said this we heard the crack of someone apparating. "C'mon, that'll be them. Could use a good laugh don't you think?" I nodded and we made our way downstairs so as not to miss the twins visit.

"As you may have noticed-" we heard Fred say as we walked down the stairs.

"We have arrived!" finished George with a quick bow mimicking his twins'.

"Oho lookie here Fred!"

"It's Ickle Ronniekins and his partner in crime, the Be-speckled Mop Head extraordinaire!" Fred replied to George with a smirking glance our way. Something about their 'just laugh' attitudes made me happy. If only for a little while, the pain went away. I saw Ron smiling too even if it was only slightly.

"Would love to stay and chat-"

"But Fred and I have some business to attend to."

"Very top secret, hush hush business." They finished together smiling. I always wondered how they did that but if they had other things to do I wouldn't burden them by asking right now. They turned towards the whole family who'd, by now, assembled in a convoluted semi-circle around the living room.

"We would just like to invite the whole family-" Started George

"-And that includes you too, Hermione and Harry-"

"-To a special one hour sale."

"Everything is 45% off."

"We'll make it 50 for you lot though." Again they finished together with very identical grins. Like it was choreographed. At the end of their quick banter, almost everyone in the room were looking at the twins skeptically like they had lost their marbles. They might have but that's why people loved them.

With goodbye hugs for the girls and manly handshakes to the guys, the twin's dissaparated together, leaving me to my thoughts again. They really knew how to cheer someone up. It's like they have a special aura that makes you happy to be around them. But when smiles fade, there is nothing left but the cold. I know Ron feels the same because he's staring at the spot that they disappeared. A slightly sad expression on his face.

"Ron, are you okay?" He looks up surprised and so do I. Hermione is staring at him with a confused expression. "You seem a bit off today."

"Oh, yeah I'm fine Hermione. I'm alright." With that he turned, with me and Hermione following, to the sitting room. He plopped down onto the couch and we dropped on either side of him. There was a comfortable silence. I knew we needed to discuss some things but that didn't mean I wanted to. This would be the perfect time. No one is around. Mrs. Weasley is upstairs with Ginny and Mr. Weasley left for work just after the twins' visit. Hermione decides to break the silence.

"What happened Harry? You used to be so… happy. Did the Dursley's do something particularly nasty over the summer?" I didn't know what to say. How was she supposed to understand that it was all just too much? I chanced a glance at Ron and he was lying back with his eyes closed as if he was asleep. No help there.

"Hermione. It's just all-to-much. It's hard to handle. What I do, just feels…" I stop here. Her face is unreadable as I trail off.

"Harry, you've got to stop this. It's not normal!" She's interrupted by a small snort from Ron but proceeds anyway with a dismissive roll of her eyes. "My life isn't that great either. Neither is Ron's, but you don't see us cutting now do you?"

I decided not to respond to that one. That was rather foreword of her. She was utterly wrong about Ron. Shows how much she knows.

I shrugged, "Yeah well, I'm not dead." Her eyes got teary at these words. She got up and left upstairs.

I leaned back against the couch and closed my eyes. "She's so clueless." Ron's eyes were still closed as he said this.

"Yeah."

"You know Fred and George help. They actually noticed me come downstairs."

"Yeah. They make the pain go away. It might sound weird, but I like the fact that they tease me." I glanced at Ron and he was nodding slightly.

"Yeah, me too. I know they're not serious, I mean, when are they, but as far as I can tell, if they are teasing you and laughing, they care." He paused. "I'm gonna… go upstairs." With that he got up and headed towards the staircase. I stayed and watched him leave. Hermione was so innocent. Even if she claims she isn't. She still wants to believe that everything in the world could be solved with sugar, spice and everything nice.

**RPOV**

Well this acting like Harry business is pretty easy. I don't even have to act. I walk towards my room, intent on reading one of my many already well memorized quidditch books.

"We can't tell him. It would destroy Ron if he knew." What? As I walk past Ginny's room, I hear Hermione speaking. Why is she talking about me? Destroy me how? "And besides, how would we tell him?"

"Simple," came Ginny's voice in a slow whisper. "We just have to say 'Ron, the only reason you are here right now is to keep Harry alive and you're doing a crap job at it!' we would just have to say it like we are telling him the weather. Subtly suggest that he needs to improve on his job." Job? The only reason they kept me alive was for Harry? I knew there was a difference in the way I was treated by my mum after I met him, I just didn't want to believe it.

"We can't just say it like that." Hermione said seemingly sad, "Even though it is true. I just can't believe he thought any different- wait no I didn't mean to say that. It was mean." She added desperately. I think she was trying to convince herself.

So I'm only here as a tool. What's the point of my life then? Harry can get along fine enough without me. The only inconvenience would be that he would have to find someone else to teach him how to pretend. Really not that hard.

Well, this was great. The last shred of usefulness I have is all a lie. What am I now? A waste of space. A burden. An annoying extra. I just want everyone to be happy. I guess the only way to do that is if I was out of the way.

I walk back to my room and retrieve Rose. She is my best friend now. I know she will never hurt me. She does whatever I want. She loves me for me and not for what I can do. I can make people laugh but she doesn't care. She just wants me to be happy. I swiftly slice at the spot on my wrist that I have been avoiding for two years. Nice and deep, so as not to be revived. The pain is there. It is my escort to a sea of darkness. Nothingness. It feels good. I am no longer a disappointment, or a burden, or a surprise, or a misfortune.

I am nothing.

I am free.

**HPOV**

I'm bored. I don't like to be but I am. I don't want to talk to Hermione. She will just look at me with pity. I don't need that.

Ginny is too young. Even if it's just by a year. Mrs. Weasley is just clueless. And Sirius is dead. I look for Ron. Maybe he would know what to do. I would certainly fancy flying around on my Firebolt right about now.

On my way to my room, I run into Ginny. "Hi Harry." She says softly. I smile and nod to her. That is the last of it and we part ways.

When I get to the doorway of my room, I scream.

Ron. Ron Weasley. Dripping blood on the floor. Lying on his bed.

Dead.

No. No. No. No. It couldn't be. He can't be dead. I needed him right now. He was the only one who understood me at all. I scream again.

I'm not conscious of anything as I rush to the body. He is pale white and ice cold. His hand is covered in blood the same shade of his hair. Little drips are still pouring out. I check his pulse. I hear two feeble flutters. Then, nothing.

"RON! RON! NO YOU CAN'T DO THIS! YOU CAN'T!" I don't know why I'm screaming at his lifeless body. It is already done. I continue my cries and I miss all the words whoever is around me is saying. I feel a slight tug at my arm and I swing out. I don't connect with anything but I don't care.

Why now? What happened that he couldn't handle it anymore? He was able to cope with what was already facing him before. Something pushed him over the edge. And he dragged me with him.

Again I feel the tug on my arm but this time, it is much harder. I am practically thrown back as Mrs. Weasley, Ginny and Hermione rush foreword. It seems fake.

Now I'm alone.

No one gets it.

I black out.

"Harry, wake up. Are you alright?" My head is pounding. Why am I so tired?

"What?" is all I could muster.

"You passed out. I suspect Molly has a cup of tea for you." It's Mr. Weasley. What happened? Then everything came back in a painful flood of memories.

Ron.

"Mr. Weasley, where's Ron? Was I dreaming?" It was a stupid question.

"Ron… is… dead." That is all he says and I see that he is ashen faced and hear the quiver in his voice. No. I wished and wished but it wasn't a dream. Ron was dead. He killed himself. His knife was still in his hand when I found him. The only reason that I was even still alive, is dead. He needed me, and I him. Now what was holding me here?

Oh, yeah. The Prophecy.

Was that a good enough reason anymore? Of course. It had to be. I kill Voldemort then I can do whatever I want. I also made a promise.

But so did Ron.

And Ron is dead.

And now, I have no one. Why can't Dumbledore kill Lord Voldemort? He's basically the wizard equivalent to God. I'm not going out leaving _them_ in the dark though.

"Harry. Are you okay?" Mrs. Weasley asks me. Her face is swollen and she is crying. Barely sobbing. It's the same with Hermione and Ginny.

"Hmm." Is all I can manage to say. It's now or never. My head hurts. I'm aching all over. I'm even emptier then I was before and I feel nothing. It strikes me that I have not shed a single tear. "I know why Ron killed himself." The words escape me with ease. I pay no attention to their intakes of breath, like I had just said Voldemort and conjured him on spot. Should I really leave them with this burden for the rest of their lives? Yes.

It is their fault and they will pay.

"It was you." I look at Mrs. Weasley and she starts to sob hysterically. I think I heard an 'I know' somewhere in her incomprehensible sobs but I pay no notice. "He overheard you once. Talking about how he was an inch close to being aborted. He was smarter then he played out to be. He knew he wasn't wanted by you. He noticed the age differences and the consistencies in years up until him. He also noticed that he was a burden on you. He heard you say that he was eating you out of house and home." By now she was all out sobbing. "All of you."

And I looked around the table. "You all thought he was nothing. Just there. Unneeded. Unwanted. Well, I needed him. And now he is gone. And it's all your faults."

With that I walked upstairs. Ron once said that his knife was his best friend. We were in potions class last year and he was chopping some useless junk for a useless potion. I don't think I was supposed to hear it. I let it go. Now I knew what he meant. I looked upon Mary as my salvation.

They moved Ron's body. Wherever he went I was probably following.

I took out my blade and with a swift cut I hacked my wrist open. Pain overtook me and I jumped into the nothingness that had continually alluded me before.

Finally, FINALLY, I was free.

"Same here mate." Ron was there.

"Don't forget me!" I haven't heard that voice since that night a year ago. Sirius.

"C'mon, you have got to meet you're parents!" I smiled. Whoever said it sucks to be dead? They were wrong. The pain was gone. The disappointment was gone.

I was free.

I was with people who really cared.

I was happy.

I am Harry Potter, and my life is over.

I am happier then I have ever been.

**A/N: Suicide and depression are serious things. I am not making fun of them in the slightest.**

**Well that's it. Very depressing and I think a bit OOC. I will not take flames. If you really hated it, CONSTRUCTIVE criticism is greatly appreciated and accepted. Just a little thing to match the mood I'm in.**

****UPDATED FOR GRAMMER AND SUCH****


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